Inspiration in the everyday.

Day 11 – Barcelona

The last two weeks pushed us out of our picket-fenced predictability with a little swat on the bee-hinds into a world that constantly demands us to think, interpret, and decipher. When you think about it, there’s very little about our everyday lives that require us to really stop and piece together a puzzle – a puzzle of a new transit system, a puzzle of a new language, or even a puzzle of how to flush the toilet in your hotel (the one in this hotel has a rope hanging from a hole in the ceiling).

Most of our days at home are surrounded by predictability – in all of the things I mentioned above, but also predictability in the people we encounter. Being the new kids in a new, different town every single day, to predict the town and people is like shuffling together Uno, Old Maid, and Uchre decks and attempting to predict which card you will draw.

Seeing Egan and Dasha made us realize just how much a friendly face means. They showed us a great time in Barcelona. We had a wonderful time laughing and hanging out. Some fresh conversation and friendly faces were just what we needed. We’ll miss you two!

As we left Barcelona on our night train to Strasbourg, we re-entered that world of unpredictability. The night train to Strasbourg slept six to a room, three on each side, and we were on the top two bunks. Sleeping in a 6-person night train couchette is the epitome of unpredictability, if you were wondering. The best way to simulate this back in the U.S., where these kinds of trains and situations are unheard of, would be to walk down the street and grab the first five people you see – then, spend the night with them in a room the size of a closet. It’s a strange dynamic, but one I’m so happy that I experienced.

Our first roommate to enter was a girl from Toronto with a Canadian flag on her backpack (I’m still trying to figure out exactly how I feel about the flag thing…that’s a later post). Her family immigrated from Russia to Toronto when she was sixteen, and she entered high school knowing no English – talk about being the new kid in town! She was studying Spanish in Barcelona for the semester.

Our next roommate popped in about four stops later – he was from France – and he was so much fun to talk to. We talked about differences (and similarities) in education, aspirations, jobs, vacations, and hobbies. We clarified the meanings of the few cuss words we knew. We practiced our r’s – he helped me with the hocker-sounding French r, while I helped him with the English-sounding r. At one point, he asked me to say the word street. I said “street” in my best French impression…putting the hocker emphasis on the r. He laughed…he meant for me to say the French word for street (rue). We told him we were heading to Strasbourg, and he recommended for us to one stop before that, in Colmar, for a relaxing day. He even checked the arrival times with the conductor for us. Thanks, Remi!

Next to enter was a thin French scientist. He boarded with a group of fifteen children, which created a traffic-jam outside our door as the children pushed through the skinny hallway trying to locate their rooms. We laid on our top bunks, laughing, as the kids bumped off one another, shouting the numbers for their bunks in French. At one point, a group of five students overflowed into our room as someone in the hallway tried to fix the jam.

Last to enter was a large French man who spoke no English and stepped into the bathroom every 30 minutes or so to smoke (which is not legal on the trains, by the way).

The young French man, Remi, worked as the translator between all of us.

The train ride with this crew ended up being one of the best experiences so far. We laid on our bunks, Remi sat on the ladder, and we all talked about just about everything. I asked Remi if the French really do hate Americans, and I told him how nice all of the French people have been to us. He corrected me by pointing out that the French people don’t like George W. Bush, and he followed up by saying, “but we are all getting along right here, so it doesn’t matter.”

I like Remi’s view, and it’s a realization that’s growing clearer every day of this trip. Regardless of what language we speak or what kinds of toilets we flush, we’re all really similar in the end. Sometimes it takes stepping outside that picket fence to experience the people you think really are different – only to find out they’re just like you in most ways.

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One Response

Sounds as though the trip is becoming more exciting by the day. I’m glad to hear you are helping foreigners with their “R’s”. You might refer to them your May 11, 2007 Only’s Only post. With that post you can get everyone…”pwonouncing theyw ahws wike Ewmah Fudd – ha-ah-ah ah-ah-ah”.

Sooo…, the French don’t like George W. Bush, huh? No surprise there, but that’s OK, because we American’s never liked that weenie, Jacques Chirac either. We’re dead even on that score. I do, however, really like their new President though… that Hungarian Frenchman, Nicolas Sarcozy, and… he likes George W. Bush. Go figure!

Oh well, don’t let international politics get in the way of a great vacation. In fact, the next Frenchman you see… give him a big, wet, sloppy Bugs Bunny-type kiss on the lips for moi. Sacre bleu!